Judgment Day
by Moonchild10
Summary: MelloxMatt "I save a prayer when I need it most and sign it from a sinner with no name." One-shot


_Once I was promised absolution  
There's only one solution for my sins  
You gotta face your ghosts and know with no illusions  
That only one of you is going home again __  
_

There was nothing in existence but the wind in their hair. Mello drove fast, all the windows in the Chevelle rolled down as far as they could go. He never stopped, Matt noted. There were gas stations where they could have bought a much-needed pack of smokes. There were convenient resting places all along the roads they traveled. Mello avoided all of them, opting instead for speeding along the highway at nearly one hundred miles per hour with no breaks, his foot never leaving the gas pedal. He never slowed, he never faltered.

"Mel?" Mat asked finally, after a while of sitting passively in the passenger seat, half of his attention focused on playing his game and the other focused on Mello, on his strange behavior as he stared straight ahead, making no jokes, keeping the radio off. This was not Mello's normal car behavior at all, and it almost scared him. "Hey, Mello?"

Mello kept staring straight ahead. The unscarred half of his face was turned to Matt, and if he looked at him like this, if he squinted, he could almost pretend they were still kids. He could almost give in to the illusion that they were still at Wammy's, still causing trouble and driving Roger mad. He could fantasize that they were still back in those far-gone, more innocent times when the biggest crime they were capable of was staying up past curfew playing with Matt's Gameboy under the sheets, or experimenting with kissing in the musty safeness of the hall closet. But times were different now; Mello was a hardened ex-Mafioso, and though Matt was still the same redheaded nerd he had been back in those days, he had seen his share of terror as well.

"Mello!" he tried one last time, and this was rewarded by a single flick of green eyes in his direction before the blond looked back at the road.

"What is it, Matt?" he tried to sound unaffected, but somehow there was a weakness to his voice that made Matt feel uneasy. He switched off his DS and slid it into the pocket of the jacket he was wearing against the raw wind that was not exactly cold, but was severe enough at this speed to make him want that extra layer against the elements.

"Where are we going?"

Mello didn't answer. His gloved fingers gripped the steering wheel tightly, and Matt knew that if he could see them, the smooth knuckles would have been white. He knew by the stance of the fingers and the stress of his arms. He knew all of Mello's details by now. The tight, guarded stance meant both that they were going somewhere unpleasant and Mello was not going to tell him where it was.

Mello was easy to read like that. He was a man defined by his emotions and by his reactions to those emotions. Those who didn't know him well enough missed this most of the time, but Matt knew him better than anyone else in the world. He knew the motivation behind every gesture, every smirk, and every twitch. But today was slightly different. There was a cloud of mystery over the ex-mobster as he guided the car down the empty road, gaining speed with every passing minute.

There was no chocolate in the car as far as Matt knew. This was not normal, nor was it safe. Since Mello had woken up that morning (pale as a ghost with an eerie kind of detachment about him as he went through his morning routine), he had not touched a single chocolate bar. The only thing he had touched was Matt; he had clung to him inexplicably, digging his nails into his shoulders and resting his forehead determinedly against Matt's. And then he had painted his fingernails black with a kind of slow determination and told Matt they were going for a ride. He had pulled the car out of the apartment building's shabby parking lot and hadn't looked back. And now he was driving with no chocolate at unsafe speeds down a highway. Matt was concerned. Mello always had chocolate. It was like his security blanket in a way. Without a bar in his hand he looked strange, small.

"Do you ever get the feeling…" Mello trailed off, not finishing the sentence. Whether he had forgotten the words on the tip of his tongue or had merely changed his mind before finishing, it wasn't clear. But Matt was now both concerned _and_ curious.

"Mello?"

"Rod said to me once…" the blond said in a determined voice, keeping his eyes on the road, "he said 'Mello, you ever feel death coming? You ever see it in the eyes of everyone around you? You feel it in the air? You even hear it in the wedding bells? 'Cause you can feel it coming, man. You can see it and hear it, and ain't nothing nobody can do to stop it once it gets its eye set on you.'

He said that three days before he died."

"Oh. Um…" Matt couldn't really think of a reply.

"And this morning, I saw death in your eyes, Matt. I could hear it when the newscaster was talking." Mello's eyes were wide and mad now as he stared ahead at the road, now winding through unremarkable little towns, the kind that no one bothered to put on maps. "I could feel it everywhere."

"Mello, are you okay?" Matt leaned across the gap between the seats and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "You're acting sort of-"

"By the time the sun sets tomorrow, one of us is going to be dead, Matt." he kept his eyes fixed forward. "And I hope it's me."

Mello's words were so blunt that Matt almost jumped, startled by their starkness. He couldn't respond, couldn't speak. It was almost as if he showed some sort of reaction it would make those words true. So instead he brushed them aside, hoping if he didn't let himself get sucked into Mello's drama Mello would calm down and they could both head back to the apartment. They had left during the late afternoon and by now the light was beginning to fail, the sun turning orange as sunset grew closer. Matt was exhausted. "Mel, can we stop for a second. I really need to take a piss, and I need a smoke."

Truthfully, he didn't expect Mello to comply. He only said it as some way to prematurely kill the previous topic of conversation. But to his surprise, Mello slid off to the side of the road and slammed on the breaks. This kicked up a riot of dust as they stopped, and it was a few minutes before they could get out of the car without choking on it.

"Thanks," Matt muttered as he moved to the back of the car to relieve himself. It was cool and peaceful in the stillness before sunset, and it was almost enough to calm his seething nerves. They were parked in front of a small church, and Matt enjoyed the way the fading sun glinted off of the multicolored stained glass windows. He joined Mello leaning against the car's hood and they both smoked in silence.

"Are you going to be okay?" Matt asked softly after a few minutes of watching the lonely church before them as they stood and smoked the last two of the cigarettes he had.

Mello didn't answer immediately. He watched his own smoke curve up in delicate tendrils into the sky for a moment, still tense. "No," he said softly, too soft for Mello. Too faint. "I'm not." the cigarette dangled limply from his lips as though he didn't really care if it fell or not.

Matt's imminent words were stolen by the sound of the church's bells as they began to ring deeply through the twilight air. The sound was faint at first, but as they began to grow louder Mello tensed more and more, like a coiled spring about to bounce out of control. Before Matt knew what was happening Mello was walking purposefully toward the church, his strides uneven and frenzied.

"Mello?" he hurried after the blond, struggling to keep up with the lanky man who was already drawing the gun from the front of his too-tight leather pants as he neared the church's front door.

"Do you hear it?" he snarled as he reached the doors and, to Matt's horror, kicked them down with one sudden, angry swoop. "Do you hear that? Hear the death in those bells, Matt?" Matt was beginning to fear his companion had lost it completely as he watched him storm into the church as though he was charging into a gunfight.

"Mello!"

"Can you hear it now!? It's death, Matt!" he waved his gun a bit for emphasis, turning to face his redheaded companion. "It's the same death that comes for everyone! L heard it, and now I'm hearing it too!" he was now storming through the rows of pews, down the aisle and toward the front. It was like some kind of sick wedding as Matt kept up with him, moving up toward the statue of Jesus being crucified that hung from the wall between two stain glass windows at the very head of the church. Mello shoved the podium to the ground and stopped right in front of the statue. "This is all your fault!" Mello screamed at the wooden Christ, his voice breaking as Matt looked on helplessly.

"Mel, maybe you should calm-"

"Why do you do these things to me?! Why? Am I not worthy or something? Is it because I sinned? What do you _want_?" Mello opened fire on the statue, permeating the painted body with bullets that crashed into the wood with deafening cracks. The smell of gunpowder was choking and Matt was afraid to touch him. Afraid of his best friend and even afraid of himself at that moment. He couldn't breathe.

Mello was trembling now as he shot bullet after bullet into the statue, his voice climbing the octaves until he was as good as shrieking. "You took my parents from me, you took L from me, and now you're taking Matt too? What." _Shot. _"The." _Shot_. "Fuck." _Shot. _"Did I do to you?"

"Mello…" Matt moved forward, placing a trembling hand on his friend's shoulder. The blond whirled to face him, and Matt became aware of just how much he was shivering. The gun in his hand was jerking around with the shaking of his arm. Matt looked into his eyes at that moment, and those glassy green pools met his own. Suddenly the fight was gone from Mello's body and he simply collapsed against Matt, who took him into his arms without reply.

Mello was crying, but Matt wasn't surprised. It wasn't the first time he had become overwhelmed and broken down. Matt did what he always did in this situation; he held him close and pressed his lips against his hair here and there and whispering incoherent words into the soft blond strands. He was aware of the wetness of Mello's tears against his neck as his best friend stood in his arms and cried. And for a moment, even though Mello was crying, Matt just wished they could stay like this forever. At this moment, Mello was enfolded safely in his arms, warm and alive and _real_.

Matt was no fool, no ignorant child, no innocent idealist. He knew that life and love and moments were ephemeral. He knew that someday soon Kira would kill them both and there would be no one to blame but fate. He knew that eventually (if not shortly) he and Mello would be nothing more than faint memories on the minds and lips of those who had known them, that Near would solve the case and avenge L as they could not do. But for the moment, none of this mattered. Mello's warmth mattered, the way he nuzzled in close to him mattered, Mello's lips pressing softly, almost timidly against his own mattered. Mello mattered. For this moment nothing, not even time, could take him away from him.

He led Mello over to the left front pew and pulled him into his lap, letting him trail absentminded kisses over his skin until he quieted and came to rest with his head against his chest, warm and close and save. He loved nothing and no one more than Mello, and these moments reminded him why as he spoke those three words softly and heard them whispered back. He sat holding Mello close to him in the dim silence of the church, their bodies colored with rainbow by the setting sun as it shone through the stained glass windows.

After a while of stillness, Matt was aware of Mello's voice, soft and humming, and it occurred to him that he was praying. It wasn't odd, given the setting. Though Matt had never been one for religion, he supposed it wouldn't hurt to follow suit. Quiet, so quiet that Mello couldn't hear,

"Please… I don't care if I have to die for it to happen… please just keep my Mello safe."

With those words, he curled himself against Mello and allowed his fears and worries to leave him as best they could and spiral away, through the roof and into the dusky night sky. And from high above, the church bells continued to ring their lonely song.

_So I save a prayer when I need it most  
To the Father, Son and the Holy Ghost  
And sign it from a sinner with no name _


End file.
